Dealing with it
by Vinyaya
Summary: Harry visits Teddy and Andromeda for the first time, tries to gain closure from all of the losses he's suffered, and experiences remorse for his injustice towards Snape. Oneshot.


Disclaimer: No, they're not mine.

DEALING WITH IT.

After Harry Potter got rid of the Dark Lord, Voldemort (tabloids preferred calling this 'vanquished' or 'defeated'), he slept. He clambered into his canopied four poster bed, crawlwd under the sheets, and slept, full and deep, a sleep like none he had had for years. For the first time, there were no disturbances, no nightmares, no twinges of that damned scar, and Harry Potter slept and slept and slept. When he woke up, he was rested, fully and completely. It was dark. He rolled over and picked up the wristwatch on the nightstand, the one that had belonged to. Fabian Prewett, another brave fighter who had lost his life for the same cause, years ago.

It was seven thirty in the evening. Harry had gone to sleep at about eight in the morning. He'd slept for almost twelve hours flat. He rolled over, but sleep would not come back to him, so he decided to take a walk around the castle and see how things were.

He climbed out of bed and put on his glasses. Looking around, he spotted Neville Longbottom sitting on his own bed, reading something on a bit of parchment. Probably a letter, Harry thought.

"Oh, Harry, you're awake!" he said warmly to Harry, when he saw him.

"Yeah," said Harry, "Listen, Neville, you were brilliant with that snake--"

"But all I did was what you told me..." began Neville, colouring.

"No, you did much better! And all that about hell freezing over... that was really cool!"

"Oh, I was guarding my tongue out there so that profanity didn't slip out in front of the teachers," said Neville modestly.

Harry grinned at him, as he finished putting on his shoes. Wrapping himself in his Invisibility Cloak, he left the dormitory. Dinner was probably being served, he thought, his stomach rumbling at the thought of the House Elves' cooking. With a pang, he thought of Dobby. He entered the Great Hall, and spotted Ron and Hermione sitting at the Gryffindor table. They weren't snogging or anything, Harry wondered why, but then he realised with another pang, that they were trying to get over the shock of Fred's death before starting anything new.

He sat down quietly beside them and took off his Invisibility Cloak.

"OI!" said Ron, but he quietened down when he saw it was only Harry. "You gave me a fright," he said with a hollow laugh.

"Sorry," said Harry, and began piling food on his plate as fast as he could. He was ravenous.

"Blimey, Harry, you're beginning to eat more than I do!" said Ron, his grin marginally wider.

"Oh, let him eat, he hasn't seen food for days," said Hermione, passing him tripe.

"Th- nks... H'mione," said Harry through a mouthful of mashed potatoes. "So," he said, after swallowing, "What's been going on while I was asleep?"

"Not much," said Hermione, wrinkling her nose.

"Yeah, we slept 'til about four, ourselves," said Ron. "Most people have gone home... you know this year's not being counted, don't you?"

"Hmmphh?" said Harry, through another mouthful. "What? Really?"

"Yes," said Hermione, beaming. "Professor McGonagall's Headmistrss now, and she decided that this year could only be counted as negligible as contribution to our magical education, so all the students are repeating a year; the first years will have classes with the new first years next year and we'll be able to do our seventh year!"

"Yeah, and guess what," said Ron, "No school from now 'til September, so we get three months' nothing but free time!"

"You will brush up on our sixth year work, though, Ron, won't you?" said Hermione, and Harry laughed.

In a bittersweet way, things almost seemed back to normal. But he still couldn't shake the thought of all those people who had died because of him in the past few days. Harry suddenly made a snap decision. Finishing off the last of the food on his plate, he got up.

"Where're you going?" demanded Ron. Ginny's been wanting to see you, she just went off for a walk with Luna and Dennis Creevey-- "

"I'll see her when I get back," said Harry, "Listen, you two, I'm going to go and see Teddy Lupin."

"What, now?" said Ron.

"Yeah, now." said Harry. "Look, Its just something I have to do... I have a lot in common with him, you know that... I just... I just want to make sure he's got more than I did, you see?"

Hermione nodded, smiling at Harry understandingly, while Ron looked a little subdued. Harry smiled at the two of them, and, throwing on the Invisibility Cloak, walked out of Hogwarts, to the nearest place he could disapparate from.

A minute later, Harry was at the front porch of Andromeda Tonks' house.

Andromeda had lost a husband, a daughter, and a son-in-law to Voldemort, and Harry approached to door apprehensively. He raised and dropped the knocker twice, and waited.

A minute later, Andromeda Tonks opened the door.

"Harry Potter," she said composedly, although Harry knew she must have performed a cheering charm on herself a minute ago.

"Erm... hi, Mrs. Tonks," said Harry awkwardly.

"Come in," said Andromeda, and ushering him in, she bade him sit on the sofa.

"I'm really, really sorry, Mrs. Tonks," began Harry, but Andromeda shook her head.

"No Harry. Don't apologise for my losses. You of all people have nothing to apologise for. I assume you've come along to meet Teddy?"

"I... yeah... they named me godfather."

"I know, Harry." said Andromeda. "Nymphadora told me. Well," she said, pointing to a door on Harry's right, "He's in there,"

Harry got up nervously and went over to the door. Glancing nervously at Andromeda, he opened it and walked in.

There was a little cot in the room, and in it lay a tiny child with bright orange hair. He was awake, engrossed in the colourful every-flavour beans Andromeda had enlarged and enchanted to float over his cot. Harry sat down in a chair next to the cot, lost for words. This was a baby, a BABY. He'd never even _seen _a baby before, not at close quarters. Decisively, he got up and picked the child up out of the cot. Holding him carefully, he placed him on his lap. Harry's heart went out to him. He was such a small, chubby, defenseless little thing. Harry wondered if, at one time, he'd been like this himself, and if so, how callous Aunt Petunia must have been not to lose her heart to him.

Teddy looked at him with wide eyes and gurgled.

Harry smiled at him. He felt he ought to say something, no matter whether he understood or not, so, cradling him in his arms he said: "Well, you don't know me... but your parents named me your godfather." Teddy gazed back at him. It almost seemed as though he understood, so Harry ploughed on.

"But they... they didn't make it through the war, Teddy. I'm sorry."

Harry blinked back his own tears. "If I can help it, Teddy, you won't ever have a life like mine; you'll be loved, loved and cared for and... well, for one thing, you'll have your grandmother, and for another, you'll have me."

Harry had been bending over Teddy while talking, and suddenly, the infant reached over, grabbed a fistful of Harry's hair, and tugged hard.

"Hey! Ow!" exclaimed Harry, half laughing. Teddy smiled a wide, toothless smile at him, and, inexplicably, Harry felt a lump in his throat.

It was no use trying to restrain himself. Why even bother with a cheering charm? It only felt right to cry; it would be a fitting way to gain closure from all the losses he had suffered, had caused so many others to suffer, from the war that he'd been fighting ever since he was born. Harry felt tears stream down his cheeks; Teddy eyed him curiously. Gingerly, Harry placed him back in his cot.

"I'm... sorry..." he said incoherently, not sure whom he was addressing; Teddy himself, or Remus and Tonks, or Fred and the bereaved twin he had left behind, or Mad-Eye for dying while trying to protect him, or Colin Creevey, a Gryffindor if he ever saw one, or Ted Tonks, and his wife, who'd been left with nobody except a poor, tiny baby who would never know his parents.

Now he was gasping; he couldn't remember the last time he'd cried like this. Blinded by tears, he slid from the chair he was sitting on, to the floor beside the cot. He'd defeated the Dark Lord, but he wasn't feeling jubilant or victorious, he was just feeling empty. Unbelievably empty.

His parents, dead trying to protect _him. _Sirius, killed because of Harry's own stupidity. Snape, who'd protected Harry, and whom Harry's hated all through, and done a terrible, _terrible_ injustice to. Cedric Diggory, dead out of pure bad luck. Madam Bones... half a hundred Muggleborns... Dobby...

"I'm glad you let it out." said Andromeda.

Harry blinked away tears, Andromeda Tonks was sitting beside him on the floor.

"Never be ashamed to cry, Harry," she continued. "Not for sympathy or attention, but simply to let all your sorrows flow out. Believe me, it helps."

Harry nodded at her, still leaking water from his eyes like a human hosepipe. She was right, though, it did feel better. It was taking pressure away from the tight knot in his chest.

"I'm sorry about earlier." he blurted thickly. "When I came here with Hagrid for that portkey."

"You thought I was my sister," said Andromeda. Harry nodded. "I have resented that resemblance since childhood, Harry, so you will forgive me if I was a little short with you on that day. I was under stress."

Harry nodded and half smiled at Andromeda, she smiled back.

"I admit I wasn't expecting you so soon." Andromeda told him.

"Wha..?"

"Well, you just vanquished the Dark Lord. Anybody else would spend the rest of the week conversing with Rita Skeeter, or posing for Witch Weekly at the very least."

Harry almost laughed at this.

"I didn't defeat Lord Voldemort." he told her. "It was done by something he's never understand. I used it to my advantage. Or, rather, somebody _else_ used it to my advantage."

Andromeda didn't enqure further, but Harry sensed the question in her eyes. He didn't know why he told her-- maybe because he felt she'd understand, that she wouldn't give him the credit he didn't want, that he didn't feel he deserved, that everyone had been forcing upon him. Or maybe it was just because they shared a bond now, in the shape of the happily oblivious baby in the cot.

Harry told Andromeda everything, about the Horcruxes, the Hallows, Hermione's loyalty and Ron's humour; about Snape and Lily, and Dumbledore's plan, about giving himself up to Voldemort, and the vision he'd had on being knocked down by the killing curse, before he survived it the second time.

And Andromeda nodded, and believed, and understood. Harry felt suddenly very close to a woman he'd never talked to, and met only once before.

After he was finished with his tale, neither of them said anything for a bit; they sat in companiable silence, looking at Teddy cycling his chubby little legs in the air. His hair had turned magenta; Harry sensed that Andromeda was thinking of her daughter. But a minute later, she turned to him.

"You've shouldered one important responsibility, and I commend you for that, highly so. But you _do_ know what your other, less difficult but just as important task is, don't you?"

Harry nodded. "Snape," he said.

"Snape," echoed Andromeda. "You must get his body out of the Shrieking Shack and have a proper funeral. You know, Harry," she paused as Harry nodded, "Everybody who died in this war, even Death Eaters, have someone who will mourn their deaths, all except Snape, and he deserves it the most."

"We have all wronged him," sighed Harry, sounding decades older than his seventeen.

"Your realization of that, and your guilt is atonement enough, Harry." Andromeda told him.

He was glad she didn't tell him to stop blaming himself, to stop feeling the magnitude of his injustice, and he was grateful. She was right, it would help him atone, and maybe after that, he'd feel better.

He got up and looked at Fabian's watch. It was eleven in the night. Andromeda got up as well.

"I'll fix dinner for us now," she said matter-of-factly. Harry nodded. It hadn't been pre-arranged, but Harry knew he wouldn't be going back to Hogwarts tonight. He'd stay here, undisturbed by hero-worshippers and fan clubs, and atone. Maybe he'd even pray, something he'd never been taught, living with the Dursleys.

There'd be time for celebration later. After tonight, perhaps, he'd be ready to step into the brave new world.

A/N: I just felt I had to let out my own greif somehow... sorry if this is too sad and boring.


End file.
